Page 2 of The Retreat
That’s why, a year ago, Talia invented Alex.
Alex was a very serious girlfriend. Beautiful, principled, elusive. A doctor. Outdoorsy. No one had ever met her, but who would question a woman buried in NHS shifts?
And once Talia was promoted? She could quietly kill off Alex with a vague mention of a mutual, respectful split. People broke up all the time. Especially when one of them was ‘busy saving lives’ and the other was finally where she wanted to be.
Celeste stood. ‘Before we wrap, something exciting to share.’
Talia blinked back into the room.
New slide. White cursive. Pine trees.
Building Together: Strengthening Bonds Outside the Boardroom!
‘We’re bringing back the company retreat!’ Celeste beamed. ‘We’ve booked a long weekend in Montshire,a gorgeous lodge. Trails, campfires, team building. Very restorative.’
Everyone clapped, so Talia did too. But she wasn’t remotely into this type of bullshit. She’d have to do it, of course. You didn’t say no to Celeste.
‘We’ll send a packing list, but for now, mark your calendars. Two months from today. And, this year, we’re invitingspouses and partners!’
That landed like a thunderclap.
‘We’ve always said Monroe is built on family values,’ Celeste went on. ‘That includes the families we choose. Whether you’re married, dating, or just beginning something special—bring them. We want to meet the people behind your brilliance.’
Talia didn’t hear anything after that. Just that one word, repeating. ‘Partners.’ She was officially panicking.
‘Does this mean we’ll finally meet Alex?’ Daniel said, far too pleased with himself.
Talia gave him a thin, perfectly tilted smile that said,die in a bin.
‘If she exists,’ someone muttered, and everyone laughed.
Talia had moved beyond panic to a full freak-out. ‘Umm, well, you know doctors’ schedules. We’ll have to see,’ she said evenly. Not like a woman who was about to be unveiled as a liar.
Celeste tilted her head. ‘Well, she’s got two months’ notice.’ She smiled that bright, threatening smile. ‘We’d love to meet her, Talia.’
Talia didn’t trust herself to speak again, so she merely gave a light shrug.
The meeting adjourned. Chairs scraped, and people spilled into corridors, chatting about fire pits and whether their hiking boots still fit.
Talia sat still. Her mouth was dry. This wasn’t just a weekend of awkwardness. It was the implosion of an expertly constructed lie. The end of Alex. The start of questions about her judgement, her image, her stability.
She had sixty days to figure out a reason why Alex couldn’t attend—one wouldn’t sound like an obvious and pathetic lie.
Or… to find herself an Alex.
Two
Imogen Lake was standing on a wobbly chair, arm deep inside a cupboard she hadn’t opened since the start of the pandemic, when the entire contents of the top shelf rained down on her. Most of it was light enough, but a tin of chickpeas joined the fun and hit her on the shoulder.
‘FUCK!’
She lost her footing and sat heavily on the floor. From this position on her arse, she could see dirt and grime she would have preferred not to know about.
She stood and put the stuff back in, hoping that amongst the debris would be tea bags. But no. Just tins that were several years overdate. She hoped it wouldn’t come to eating them, but she couldn’t swear to it.
Her phone buzzed again from the kitchen table. Imogen stood, padded over, and picked it up with a sigh. She unlocked it and swiped into her Instagram.
Of course, it was Flora. Imogen only had post notifications on for her. She didn’t even follow Flora with her main account anymore, but the finsta let her keep an eye on things without the sting of being seen.
